Devoted Souls
by SleepingwithinWater
Summary: Éponine, Enjolras, and Combeferre survived the barricade, but only barely. Debilitated by injuries and an intense sense of guilt, Éponine isn't quite sure she can make it. But then she sees his face, and is done for. (e/e canon era) (HIATUS)
1. Prologue

**Notes: I've had a hankering to write a canon story for at least the past month. I know I'm in the middle of the 'Witness' universe and that trilogy will not stop – in fact, the third book is about to begin. :( Basically, this is something I couldn't not write. **

**Please, tell me what you think. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to its rightful owner.**

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Prologue

.::.

Éponine had never fancied herself a freedom fighter. In truth, she was nothing like the men she found herself surrounded by. While their words affected the hearts of the Parisians, her words fell into the air and floated away like dust, unseen, unheard by all. Their figures turned the heads of many, male or female alike; and simply their names commanded attention. Her figure grew smaller and smaller each day, wasting away, her name barely spoken.

She scrunched her cap down, shoving the escaped whips of hair underneath the brown, coarse material and squared her shoulders, sinking back against the wall of the Musain_. _The letter in her breast pocket weighed heavily on her mind and her heart. Cosette had told her it was of the utmost importance that Éponine deliver it to Marius before the day was out, but she had yet to fulfill her promise. The excited air that surrounded her kept her from moving forward, discreetly handing him the letter without revealing her identity. Of course, she highly doubted they would recognize her; she'd only ever attended their meetings several times and every time, she blended in with the background.

Their leader – the one dressed in red – ended his sentence and Éponine snapped to attention, following the boys that whizzed past her with her eyes, her feet frozen to their place. She faltered for a moment, loosing sight of Marius, but she soon found him, hastening to his side.

"Marius." She watched a man in glasses rush past holding half a door.

Marius turned around from a pile of wood, holding two short pieces in his hands. His brown eyes widened at the sight of Éponine and he dropped the wood, holding her shoulders in his hands; she relished the feel, shifting on her toes. "'Ponine?! What – what are you doing here?"

Éponine reached into her breast pocket and pulled out the thick letter from Cosette. Before handing it to him, she stared at his name on the front of the package, drawn in scrawling letters. Marius' name was one of the only words she was able to read. Slowly, she handed him the letter. "This is from Cosette."

Marius grabbed it from her with almost-greedy hands. Without hesitating, he ripped open the packaging before her; Éponine winced, holding her hands together tightly. Marius' eyes scanned the page. She watched the blood drain from his face and before she could ask what was wrong, he looked up, despair evident in his eyes. "She's leaving."

"What?"

Marius shook his head, rereading the words. "Cosette – her father is taking her away. I – " Marius ran a hand over his jaw, shoving the letter into his pocket. Over her shoulder, he glanced at their leader, who regarded him with a cold stare. Marius turned to Éponine and smiled gratefully. "Thank you for this, 'Ponine." He patted her shoulder.

"What about Cosette, _monsieur_?" Éponine secretly was thrilled she was leaving, even if it did hurt Marius. Maybe, oh, just maybe, she would have a chance if Cosette really was gone.

Marius shook his head, already stepping away toward the front of the Musain. A sudden ruckus on the other side of the imposing barricade sounded and Marius jumped; both Marius and Éponine threw alarmed looks at the pile of pianos, tables, and chairs. After a moment, he pointed to Éponine sternly. "You should leave. Please, Éponine, it's not safe." Quickly, he stepped toward her, grasping her shoulders once more. "Promise me that you'll go."

Éponine opened her mouth –

"Promise me!"

She nodded solemnly and he tousled her cap and was off. Éponine watched him grab a musket from the man in glasses next to their leader. (How had she never learned their names? She only knew Marius and the cynic, Grantaire. No one else.) Around her, a flurry of men appeared, each grabbing a weapon, taking a place behind the barricade. Her own heartbeat began to race. Marius was probably right when he warned her to leave. But she once again found her feet rooted to the cobblestone.

Just as she was about to slip away, a hand grasped her shirt and pulled her back. The leader roughly shoved a musket into her hand. "You'll need this." She began to shake her head, but he pushed her along. "We need all the men we can get. Besides, I've seen you here before. You know what our cause is – that's enough." He pointed to the far corner of the barricade, the farthest from where she was standing.

Alarmed, Éponine followed his orders and rushed to her place. Throughout the next several minutes, the barricade went from silent, amidst an merely air of hype, to loud, under a hail of gunfire. Éponine had seen gunfights before; she wasn't _that _naïve. But those had always been small, mere stand-offs. Now, as she stood trembling, uselessly holding a musket in her hand, as she watched young men fall to their deaths, she doubted what they fought for.

Freedom – yes. Freedom through the deaths of young men – no. What would that accomplish?

She looked for Marius and found him half-way up the barricade, rooting around for a keg of gunpowder. Her heart left her chest when she saw the Guardsmen above him, pointing a gun in direct line with his skull. Éponine dropped the musket. She scrambled up the side without thinking.

On the ground, hastily wrapping gauze around someone's wound, the leader's eyes flashed toward the small man running up the side of the barricade toward Marius. He saw what he was going to do and for a moment, he stilled.

"Combeferre!" He shook himself free of intrigue and called over his right-hand man.

"Yes?" Combeferre pushed up his glasses, wiping the blood off the rim with his fingertip.

Without explanation, he pointed to the young man. "Get him and push Marius out of the way."

Combeferre paled at the sight, concern for his own safety selfishly coming first. He nodded, then, and rushed up the side, grabbing the young man by the waist before he could point the musket toward himself. The young man protested and the pair went tumbling downward before Combeferre could push Marius out of the line of fire. As they continued tumbling down the barricade, the young man grabbing onto Combeferre's shirt collar, jerking it painfully, a gunshot went off.

When they landed on the ground, for the briefest of seconds, Combeferre felt the slight pressure of his – _her –_ breasts on his chest. She scrambled away before he could respond. Marius lay on the ground, flat on his back, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Éponine collapsed at Marius' side.

She touched near the bullet lodged in his tender flesh, frowning at the way his normally beautiful eyes grew hazed over, staring at nothing. Her flesh pulsed and she shook her head, refusing to accept what was before her. Slowly, she turned and launched herself at the man who'd dragged her back – Combeferre. She easily caught him off guard, pinning him to the ground. Her long fingernails clawed at his face, his neck, his shoulders; whatever skin she could find. He struggled and finally, two men pulled her off of him, her cap coming off, falling to the ground. Her brown, grungy hair fell past her shoulders, revealing her secret; Éponine hardly noticed.

Around them, the gunfire continued, but Éponine felt frozen in time, not aware of the danger surrounding her. The men dropped her arms and she stepped away, glaring at them with dark eyes. Marius' body had been pulled into the interior of the Musain in the scuffle and as she began stumbling toward the entrance, a sharp pain arose in the back of her shoulder. She dropped to the ground, crying out in pain. Combeferre came to her side, but she pushed him away.

"Let go of me!"

"Please, let me help you," he pleaded, glancing over his shoulder.

"I don't – I don't need your help." Éponine ground her jaw down, whimpering.

"You're bleeding profusely. Please, _mademoiselle,_ you must get away from here." Combeferre touched her shoulder; Éponine did not have the strength to react. Liquid fire poured through her veins; spots swam before her eyes.

"Don't call me that," she groaned, shaking her head.

"Combeferre – " The leader's voice broke through her muddled brain. "– take her to a doctor."

"But En – "

"You have my permission. Now, quick, before any more damage is caused."

Combeferre nodded and carefully lifted Éponine into his arms. She squirmed in his arms, blindly reaching for something that would keep her in her place. Her arms fell into the empty air. "No, no, please. Marius – where is Marius?"

Combeferre hoisted her closer, carrying her easier. He slipped down a side alleyway, away from the barricade. "Marius is dead, _mademoiselle._"

Shock coursed through her. She'd been shot; she'd seen Marius die and she'd done nothing; she'd lost him forever – the only person who'd ever shown her love, shown her the true light of day. Before she could even think to cry, the darkness enveloped her and she lost consciousness.

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**Notes: It's always slightly risky writing two fics at once, but school is over in five days (PRAISE BE.) so I'm confident I can juggle it. I've done it before. Anyway, let me know what you think!  
**

**Jess**


	2. Heaven

**Notes: Thank you all for your reviews and/or follows. Keep 'em coming!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Chapter One: _Heaven_

.::.

The first color she saw was white. White ceiling, the blinding white light from the window, white sheets, white nightgown – everything burned white.

Éponine's eyes, caked heavily with sleep, cracked slightly when she awoke. Immediately, she closed her eyes again and cradled her forehead in her palm; she pulled her hand away quickly, surprised to see a white bandage covering the entirety of her right hand. Groaning, Éponine sat up, her head throbbing with each movement she made.

The room she found herself in was definitely not her own. The four poster bed in which she lay, complete with white mesh covering the top and sides, effectively leaving the rest of the room in a sort-of haze, pressed against Éponine's back uncomfortably, even though she was sure it was the softest bed she'd ever felt. Éponine pulled back the mesh and peeked out into the room. Large, picture windows spanned from the bottom of the wall to her right to the top, at least fifty feet high. The ceiling, incredibly ornate, complete with murals of angels floating against a pale blue sky, was vaulted, cast in a dome-like shape. Éponine slowly placed one bare foot on the floor, the cold white marble sending shocks through her skin. Besides the bed, a pale pink couch rested on the wall with the window and there was still-smoldering fireplace across from the bed.

Éponine stood up shakily, grabbing hold of one of the posts for support. Her head swam in confusion and what were probably the effect of pain medicine. Her shoulder ached, like a dull knife cutting into her bone. And her hand – Éponine sighed. Completely useless flesh hanging onto broken bone.

The door to the room opened, revealing a portly maid, dressed in grey. She held a tray and jumped at the sight of Éponine out of bed. "_Mademoiselle_, you cannot be out of bed!" She placed the tray on the edge of the couch and rushed to Éponine side, pushing her backside back onto the mattress. Éponine protested, though weakly. The maid shook her head. "No, no, _mademoiselle_– "

Éponine closed her eyes, grinding her teeth. "Please do not call me that." She opened her eyes, staring at the maid expectantly.

The maid blinked several times and then nodded. "Miss, you cannot get out of bed. Doctor's orders. Now, here, have some breakfast – "

Éponine's lap grew heavy with the weight of the over-filled food tray. She'd never seen so much decadent food in her life. Before she could even think about ingesting such richness, she questioned the maid. "Where am I?"

"The home of _Monsieur _Gillenormand, miss. _Monsieur _Pontmercy's grandfather."

Éponine nodded. "Yes, I – I know who that is." She shifted, using her good hand to leverage her weight. "Where is Marius?"

The maid paled. "Miss, _Monsieur _Pontmercy died – two week ago. You've been in and out of this world for nearly two weeks."

Éponine's heart stopped in her chest. Two weeks – she'd missed two weeks. She'd been in Gillenormand's house for two weeks. The thought made her stomach churn with disgust. She'd been to Marius' home once before one year previously. He'd seen her home that day – the inn that reeked, was infested with rats, and her parents, who didn't care whether she made it to the next day or not – and had invited her home for supper. When Gillenormand saw her appearance, though, her ratty hair and soiled clothes, he'd turned her away. Marius had explained the nature of the situation, even calling Éponine his best friend, but Gillenormand wouldn't hear of it. Éponine left out of embarrassment for Marius and for herself.

"I can't – I can't be here." She pushed the tray away, spilling a cup of tea onto the white sheets. "Please, _madame_, let me go." Éponine easily pushed past the maid, shoving her against the wall. She stumbled to the door and threw it the rest of the way open.

The maid called after her, warning her about her weak health, but Éponine wouldn't listen. She tore down the equally as ornate hallway, a fresh stream of blood pouring down her back, staining the cotton nightgown. She reached a staircase at last, peering down over the bannister into the foyer.

"_Monsieur _Gillenormand! _Monsieur _Combeferre!" The maid's voice caught Éponine by surprise. She teetered at the edge of the bannister, but was caught at the last second by a rough hand, pulling her back. She fell to her knees with a grunt and the hand let go of her wrist; a brilliant flash of red whizzed past her before her head connected with the marble floor and, for the second time, lost consciousness

.::.

When she came to, the haze of the white mess covering had transformed into the haze of a smoking pipe. A soft chuckling came from the pink couch to her right. Éponine sat up slowly, swallowed to try and alleviate her dry throat.

"Combeferre tells me that one of your favorite past times appears to be loosing consciousness."

She blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the light. "_Monsieur _Gillenormand."

"Good morning – or should I say, good afternoon, _mademoiselle._" He puffed billows of smoke from his mouth, raising his eyebrows in amusement. Éponine winced at the word, but made no effort to correct him. It appeared no one listened to her wishes.

"When can I leave?" Éponine didn't mean to sound ungrateful, but she highly doubted Gillenormand wanted her in his house longer than necessary.

Gillenormand frowned for a moment and then sighed, glancing toward the door. "Anytime that you wish." He caught Éponine's hopeful glance and narrowed his eyes. "But I'm quite sure, were my grandson still alive, he would wish for you to stay until you were healed."

Éponine focused on the stain on the sheets from the cup of tea she'd spilled earlier. (She must not have been out as long as she'd originally thought.)

"I wont make you stay," he continued, standing up slowly, his hands on his knees. "Someone else might, though." He pursed his lips slightly. "I really should apologize for my treatment toward you some time ago." Éponine looked up, her breath stilling. "I – I was wrong."

Éponine opened her mouth to respond, but he took another long drag of his pipe and left the room, leaving the door ajar. Éponine briefly wondered what he'd meant by someone else making her stay. She'd heard Combeferre's name mentioned twice, and if the rebellion was over like she assumed, he must have survived. But he couldn't be the one wanting her to stay; they had no relationship besides him helping her away from the barricade.

She wished he hadn't.

Éponine's head fell back against the feather pillow and she rubbed her eye with her hand, sniffing violently. She had yet to mourn Marius' untimely death – the opportunity had not made itself known yet and she figured she was too tired to cry. The situation she found herself in was preposterous. She should have never gone to the barricade or delivered Cosette's letter –

_Cosette._

Éponine sat up, ignoring the sudden pounding in her brain. Of course Cosette would be at Gillenormand's; she was supposed to be Marius' betrothed, after all. As if on cue, Cosette fluttered into the room, adorned in a dark black dress, her long hair pulled to the side with a black ribbon. Her eyes were rimmed with red and she held a white hankie in her hand.

"Oh, Éponine!" Cosette sat on the side of the bed, holding Éponine's good hand in both of hers. She pressed the corner of her hankie to her eye, shaking her head. "My dear Éponine."

Éponine flinched. "Cosette, I'm sorry for not – "

Cosette smiled softly, shaking her head. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. You did what I asked. It is I who should apologize. I never would have thought that – " She choked back a sob, pressing the hankie against her mouth.

"It's not your fault, Cosette." Éponine patted her hand with her bandaged one; she retracted, a sharp pain flowing through her.

Cosette looked up, her cheeks stained a pretty pink. "Oh gracious, Éponine. I didn't realize – I shouldn't be crying to you when you're in so much pain yourself; _physical _pain, nonetheless. How rude of me!" She slid off the side of the bed, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "I'll have Daisy bring you up some supper, yes? You just rest, Éponine."

Cosette left before Éponine could protest any further.

The door closed with a resounding thud. Outside, thunder rolled, but no rain fell. Éponine stared out the window, holding her injured hand against her stomach. Cosette's kindness was sickening. For pity's sake, her fiance had been _killed_, shot in the forehead, his brains blown to bits, and she was worried about being rude to Éponine. Éponine had never met someone so kind, so utterly aggravating. It was a wonder Cosette didn't constantly have a train of woodlands creatures following her like in the fairytales.

Éponine rolled onto her side, facing the window. She couldn't remember much of what had happened at the barricade. She vaguely remembered being carried throughout the alleyways and Combeferre's incessant murmurings about "abandoning the cause." At one point, she remembered a splintering pain against her hand; what had happened had obliterated her bones. What she remembered most was Marius' face. His eyes, stone cold, had stared back at her blankly. Pieces of his brain had crusted around the bullet hole, but oddly enough, she hadn't been disgusted. Blood had always frightened her, but his blood – that got underneath her fingernails and stained her clothes (Which she couldn't seem to find anywhere.) – seemed precious.

Lighting cracked, startling her enough to roll onto her back. She pulled the tea stained sheet up to her neck and snuggled down, well aware that she was soiling the perfectly white material. It appeared that someone had cleaned her wounds, but neglected the rest of her. No matter; she rarely washed anyway.

She wondered what it felt like to be dead.

Probably peaceful. No running from the law, no running from parents. No stealing food, no stealing coins. No more fighting, or worrying, or broken hearts.

She wondered if Marius was in heaven as she stared at the cherubs painted onto the ceiling.

She figured he probably was. The likes of her, though, wouldn't have been allowed, in her mind. Why would God want a thing like her in heaven? Marius' heart was made of pure gold, while hers was born of blackness. Someone had once told her that it wasn't through good deeds that got one into heaven, but through faith in God. Éponine didn't think she was smart enough for something like that. Still, it intrigued her.

Being dead was probably better than being stuck in _Monsieur _Gillenormand's lavish home. It would have been much simpler if she would have died. She wouldn't have been a burden that way. With Marius gone, it wasn't like anyone would have missed her.

The rain began to fall at last. Éponine stepped out of bed and walked to one window pane. She rubbed her hand on the foggy glass, looking out onto the extensive gardens. She pushed slightly and found that window capable of being opened. Pushing it forward all the way, she breathed deeply, smelling the rain and the dirt –

And the blood of the barricade.

Éponine quickly shut the window, blinking, as she held the robe she didn't remember putting on against her chest.

She returned to the bed just as Daisy, the portly maid, opened the door, bringing in another tray of food. She placed it on Éponine's lap once more. "Please be careful, miss." She chuckled. "I will change your sheets tomorrow, but the mattress could stain if we have anymore accidents." The woman smiled, holding her hands together, and Éponine noted the odd accent she didn't quite recognize; the woman's French wasn't very clear either.

Éponine smiled gratefully and poked at the meat on her plate, which had been drowned in brown gravy. It smelled delicious, but she wasn't sure if her stomach could take such delicacy.

"Is there anything else you need, miss?"

Éponine looked up, meeting Daisy's concerned gaze. "No, thank you, though."

Daisy nodded and pointed to a cord hanging down beside the door. "Just pull that when you're ready for me to come and collect your tray, miss." She popped a curtsey and left the room.

Éponine ate several of the peas on her plate and blanched at the cold taste. She took the hunk of bread off her plate and set the tray beside her, careful to not tip the cup of coffee. Carrying the plate to the window, she pushed it open once more and dumped the meat, gravy, and peas into the bushes below.

But she kept the bread.

Always the bread.

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**Notes: I'm having a bit of a rough time gaining my feet here. I am **_**in love **_**with canon, and unfortunately, I don't see it around a lot that much anymore. Of course, this is an e/e story, but (as it is my new favorite) this will be a slow burn.**

**Remember to review!**


	3. Modifications

**Notes: I had an obscene amount of fun writing this chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Chapter Two: _Modifications_

.::.

The next day, after another meal spent alone in her bed, Éponine was carefully extracted from her room, sent down the hall, and into a small sitting room. A doctor waited for her in the center of the room, smiling brightly. He motioned toward the makeshift exam table and Éponine froze, eyes-wide.

Normal women would have been mortified by their lack of clothing (She was still dressed in her nightgown.), but Éponine had been dressed in worse. Normal women would have – most likely – detested the idea of being poked and prodded in their own home, but Éponine had never experienced a visit to or from a doctor before. Once, she'd gone to a so-called dentist down by the docks. He'd pulled a tooth from the back of her mouth and paid her ten francs for it. Her mouth had swollen and grown infected and Marius took her to an actual dentist, who gave her a tonic that soothed the pain and helped her infection lessen.

The doctor – tall, unnaturally thin (rather like her), a hunched shoulder – nodded in understanding. "_Mademoiselle, _my name is Serge Goddat. You most likely do not remember me, but I am the doctor that took the bullet from your shoulder and splinted your hand."

(Oh, so that's why she felt something hard beneath her bandages.)

He nodded again. "Please, this should only take a moment."

Éponine walked forward timidly and ignored his offered hand, stepping up the small step to allow herself easier access to the examining table. The doctor rubbed his hands together and took a place behind her, setting his bag beside her.

"Could you please lower your nightgown?"

Éponine did not blush.

She lowered her left shoulder, nearly revealing her breast to the empty sitting room. The doctor remained quiet as he worked, rubbing a stinging salve against her shoulder, poking something inside her tender wound, and then finishing by taping a bandage to the wound and then wrapping gauze around her waist and up around her shoulder. She readjusted her nightgown and he took her hand, unwrapping the gauze.

Éponine sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her greenish-yellowish hand. It looked limp, as if the bone and blood had been sucked out from underneath the skin. The doctor gently poked one of her fingers, which hurt immensely. Éponine shifted.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. The doctor adjusted her splints and wrapped a fresh set of gauze every so tightly around her hand. Éponine watched the tips of her fingers turn purple from the pressure. "_Mademoiselle_, you must listen carefully." Éponine looked up. "Your shoulder is healing quite nicely. Remember to keep it clean and change the gauze every day. I have left copious amounts with Daisy, for when you need more. As for your hand, if you cannot already tell, most of the bones have been broken in your fingers. It will take time for them to heal, and unfortunately, I have none of the skills, nor materials to cast it. Wrap it tightly in gauze and keep the splints in place. Above all, rest and a healthy diet is key." He snapped his bag shut. "I will be back once every week to check on you and the other patients."

Éponine furrowed her brown, relieved to hear her entire hand had not been broken, but confused about the doctor's comment of there being more than one patient in the household. "Other patients?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. She was aware of Combeferre being in the household, but who was the other man? Surely not someone from the barricade. Possibly Guillenormard's relative – but why would he be hurt?

The doctor nodded. "Two men – both of which I am not at liberty to discuss." His eyes twinkled with mischief and a general good nature. "Now, like I said, others to attend to."

Éponine nodded, stepping down from the table. "Thank you, _monsieur._"

"Call me Serge. We'll be seeing a lot of one another."

Éponine chuckled. "Thank you, Serge."

.::.

Daisy had changed the sheets on Éponine's bed like she promised, even sprinkling it with lavender water.

When Éponine relocated her room at the end of the hall after a little confusion (Every single door looked the same to her), she expected to be alone, but was met by Daisy, standing at the foot of the bed, a large wooden tub filled with steaming water next to a shoji screen with painted flowers on it.

"What is this?" Éponine asked, her hand falling from the doorknob.

Daisy motioned to the tub. "Cosette has requested that we – _I _give you a bath."

Éponine shook her head. "I – A bath don't seem like the greatest idea to me. My wrappings – "

"She insisted, miss."

Éponine sighed deeply and closed the door, coming to the conclusion that she would never get her way in this household. She stripped herself of the nightgown and the newly wrapped gauze around her shoulder and stepped into the fiery water, cursing in such an unladylike manner it made Daisy blush.

Éponine cleared her throat as she settled into water, curling her good hand around the wood. "I'm sorry."

Daisy shook her head and bent down beside the tub. "Nothing I haven't heard before, miss."

Before she could begin washing Éponine, the young girl turned around. "Do you know how to wrap my shoulder?" Daisy nodded and Éponine slowly settled back against the tub, the pressure hurting her wound slightly. Mostly, the water released the tension in her joints.

In normal conditions, she would refuse Daisy's offer to wash her and wash herself. But with the use of only one hand, she let go of some of her pride and relented.

Daisy lathered her fingers and washed Éponine's skin raw, turning it from a blood crusted, and dirt smudged tan to a pink tinted, golden brown hue. She moved to Éponine's hair and washed it at least three times, turning the water brown with grime. Éponine blushed at the sight.

Finally, Daisy told her to stand and toweled her dry. Éponine wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out, nearly slipping against the marble floor. Daisy caught her elbow and the two shared a brief laugh.

"Fresh clothes are behind the screen, miss."

Éponine thanked her and stepped behind the screen, finding a pale green dress laid out across a wing-back chair. She stepped inside of it, pulling it up by her left hand. Daisy buttoned the buttons when she requested and then led her to a full-length mirror, much to her protesting. Éponine hadn't seen her reflection in (what felt like) years. There was the occasional puddle in the streets that served as a looking glass, but an actual mirror – no, she hadn't seen one of those in ages.

What appeared before her seemed other-worldly, almost.

The dress pinched her waist to unimaginable tininess, and her skin seemed to radiate a smoothness she'd never felt on her own skin before. Her hair, too, was no longer greasy and crusty, but healthy and soft to the appearance and touch. Éponine touched her cheek, eyes fastened wide.

"You look right pretty, miss." Daisy grinned at Éponine's reflection.

Éponine dropped her hand from her cheek. The door opened and Cosette walked in, still adorned in black. She gave Daisy a look. "Thank you, Daisy. That will be all." Daisy glanced at Éponine once more and then bobbed a curtsey, walking out of the room quickly.

Cosette stood behind Éponine, looking at the pair's reflection in the mirror. "Éponine, gracious, you look beautiful."

Éponine shook her head and moved away, gathering her nightgown from off the top of the screen. "Don't say things you don't mean, Cosette."

Cosette ignored her comment and rushed to her side, taking the small breakfast tray she attempted to hold in her arms away. "You don't need to be doing that – "

Éponine resisted the urge to stamp her foot in impatience. "I'm not a complete invalid you know!"

Cosette's mouth opened and she blushed prettily, setting the tray down on the edge of Éponine's bed. "I'm sorry, Éponine," she whispered, "I didn't realize you didn't want help."

Éponine sighed and rubbed her forehead. "It's not that I don't want help. I'm just – not used to being in places like this. My outburst – I apologize." She stared at the floor, sighing in defeat.

Cosette remained quiet, considering Éponine's words for a moment. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Éponine shook her head, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She'd started growing weary rather quickly as of late and her chest felt tight. "No. But Cosette, I can't thank you enough. I – " Tears welled in her eyes for the first time since the barricades.

Cosette nodded and she patted Éponine's good hand. "I think I'll let you rest. If you're feeling up to it, you can come down to dinner tonight. If not, I'll have Daisy bring something up."

Éponine blinked away her tears, clearing her throat. Her good hand gripped the post of the bed and she nodded. "I think I'd just like to go back to bed."

"Whatever you wish. You're here to recover." Cosette gave Éponine a long look, one she couldn't place, and then exited the room.

Éponine stood and began undressing herself, which took an excruciatingly painful amount of time. Éponine nearly ripped the buttons clean out of their holes, but couldn't bring herself to ruin, what was likely, one of Cosette's dresses. Remaining only in her thin shift, Éponine crawled into bed, pulling the plush blankets up to her chin.

Even in the dead of summer, her room felt rather cold. She absentmindedly wondered if the marble had anything to do with it.

After two weeks of living in Gillenormand's, Éponine had yet to feel at ease. She'd hadn't even left her room until that morning. A sense of awkwardness followed her every where she went. She never knew what to say, or how to act around Cosette. She didn't know if she should mention Marius or not. And she didn't know how to treat Daisy, either. She'd decided it would be best if she simply kept quiet as much as possible. Maybe that way she wouldn't put her foot in her mouth as often as she usually did.

Tired and stressed, Éponine soon fell into a deep sleep.

.::.

Cosette reminded herself not to be disappointed when Éponine didn't show up for dinner. The young woman had experienced a lot of change in the past several days – change no one would be able to get used to such a short time. Since her beloved father's sudden death earlier that year and Marius' untimely death, Cosette, too, had faced much change.

She tried not to think about it, though.

Settling down for dinner, Cosette held her hands in her lap, waiting for the rest to join them. Her grandfather (technically Marius' grandfather, but he'd taken her in once he heard the news of her father's passing) waited at the head of the long table in the dining room. He tapped his fingers impatiently.

"They'll be here," Cosette said, urging him to remain calm. "We can't force them to do anything, besides." She picked up her wine glass, taking a small sip.

"I wish I had your patience, my dear," the elderly man grumbled.

Cosette's faced the door when it opened, smiling graciously when their two other guests entered the room. For two weeks, Ezra Combeferre and Nicolas Enjolras had been living with Cosette and her grandfather. Their wounds were considerably worse than Éponine's, but they never failed to make it to supper after their first week in the house. Combeferre had lost sight in his right eye after taking a fall while transporting Éponine to a doctor. In fact, he'd lost his entire eye, and began wearing a covering over it behind his glasses. Enjolras had sustained a shot to his left arm, which nearly rendered it unusable, but thankful did not; and a shot to the chest, right below his heart. Both bullets had been removed, and he claimed he felt much better, but Cosette could tell he was lying. Enjolras did not like appearing weak.

"Nice of you to join us," Cosette said, smiling at they took their seats across from her. The action left a bitter feeling in her stomach; the chair next to her's – Marius' – was left empty.

"Let us begin." Gillenormand wasted no time in getting dinner started. He motioned for the cook to bring forward the food, and until he left, the table remained in silence. "Go on, then. Eat."

Enjolras glanced at Combeferre, who stared at the food with distaste. After a long pause, they filled their plates and began to eat slowly.

"I'm sorry that Éponine could not join us," Cosette mentioned, cutting into her salad.

Enjolras looked up, mid-chew, frowning. He swallowed and dabbed at the corner of his mouth. "Éponine?"

Cosette looked up, turning her head to the side. She chuckled slightly. "Surely you must know her?" Enjolras stared back blankly. "The woman Combeferre saved?"

Combeferre set his fork down and cleared his throat. "The unnamed young man who actually turned out to be a woman."

Enjolras blinked and then recalled, nodding. "Oh, yes. Éponine. I did not know her name."

Cosette sighed wistfully. "She's probably asleep, poor dear."

Enjolras stabbed his meat and fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, poor dear," he murmured.

* * *

**Notes: I'm not usually big on choosing names because of their meaning, but this time, I actually looked into it. I chose Combeferre's name as Ezra – one because I use it in a separate story and really like it; two – because it means "help" in Hebrew. I chose Nicolas for Enjolras because it means "victory of the people."**


	4. Champ de Lys

**Notes: Thanks for all the reviews last chapter! Remember: it is going to take a little while for the ball to start rolling, but I think I have some pretty exciting things planned. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Three: _Champ de Lys_

.::.

The library in _Monsieur _Gillenormand's house made Enjolras' personal library (the one he no longer had since he'd lost his apartment) look pitiful. Like all of the rooms in the house, the ceilings were vaulted, creating the impression that the circular room was much bigger than it actually was. Large pillars held up the small terrace-like second floor that could only be accessed by one steel, circular stairway in the back. The left wall housed at least three hundred books and the right wall was completley devoted to a large picture window. (Enjolras had come to the realization over the past three weeks of staying at Gillenormand's that the old man loved natural light.) The floor was a white marble, mixed with a pale pink in certain spots, and the furniture in the room was a rich mahogany.

Leaning most of his weight on the walking stick he now required, Enjolras hobbled into the library, heading straight toward the encyclopedia section. He grabbed the first one he could find: an encyclopedia on African tribes. It didn't sound like the most interesting topic on the planet, but Enjolras had to do _something _in order to keep himself sane. Slowly, he walked toward an over-stuffed, wing-back chair, falling down into it with a heavy sigh.

June in France was Enjolras' favorite time of year. He hated the winter; being chilled to the bone half the year was not his idea of comfort. Spring time was pleasant, but it rained too often and kept him indoors when he would much rather be out in the world, _doing _something for a change. Fall couldn't seem to make up its mind as to whether it would be warm or chilly. Summer, though, was perfect.

His friends often –

Enjolras ran a hand down his face, letting go of a weary sigh. His friends – that was one topic he did his best to stay away from. He realized that he should be grateful that he was still alive and practically healthy, but some part of him couldn't help but feel responsible for their deaths.

He cracked open the encyclopedia and mindlessly read the words on the pages. Anything to keep from falling off the edge, he reminded himself. Even if that meant reading about body modifications that did not sound healthy and hunting rituals. After a while of reading, just when he was getting to the history (at last), the door to the library opened. Enjolras looked up, closing the cover of the book. Combeferre walked in at an unsteady gate. A black eye-patch that really made him look like a pirate covered his eye and a large bandage was placed on a spot just over his eye, covering a rather large cut.

"Combeferre," he said, standing slowly.

Combeferre made his way to the chair opposite Enjolras', waving at him to sit down. Enjolras complied. Combeferre took a seat and raised his eyebrows, reaching for a small glass from the waist-high cabinet next to him to pour himself a generous amount of whiskey. "Afternoon," he said, his voice raspy.

"How are you?" Enjolras asked, setting his book to the side.

Combeferre shrugged. "As well as can be expected. You?"

Enjolras wet his lips, leaning back in the chair. "Sore, weary, stiff."

"I understand the feeling." Combeferre nodded, swirling the drink around in his glass. "Would you like one?"

Enjolras shook his head. "No, but thank you."

"Do you ever plan on leaving here?" Combeferre asked after a tense moment of silence.

Enjolras looked toward the window, watching the wind whip through the bright leaves. "I'm not sure they'll let us," he said slowly.

He didn't want to appear ungrateful. Gillenormand had been beyond helpful since their arrival: doctors visits, food, shelter – everything Enjolras and Combeferre didn't have anymore. They were wanted men, enemies of the state. Gillenormand's estate – Champ de Lys – was situated far enough from Paris that the old man was assured the pair was safe. He rarely had any visitors and rarely made trips to Paris. No doubt he'd taken them in on Cosette's request or to pay homage to Marius' memory; either way, Enjolras _was _thankful, but he longed for his own home. Champ de Lys was too large, too serene, too cut off from the problems France faced. Enjolras couldn't make any sort of difference there.

"No, you're probably right," Combeferre replied, breaking Enjolras out of his thoughts. "But what about the girl?"

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, turning back toward his friend. "What girl?"

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "_É__ponine_."

"Oh, I'd nearly forgotten about her." He pulled the book he'd been reading back onto his lap. "What about her?"

"We've been here three weeks and have yet to see her face. _And _I'm still dying to know why you made me go up there and save her." He chuckled ruefully. "I guess it's good that you did, though. Otherwise, I probably would have been – "

"_Ezra._" Enjolras snapped his book closed, closing his eyes in anger. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and placed the book on the side-table next to the chair, running his hand over the cover for a moment before he faced Combeferre's wide eyes. "I thought we agreed not to speak of that."

Combeferre blinked, narrowing his eye. "We agreed not to speak of the barricade specifically, never about the girl."

Enjolras grabbed his walking stick and stood up, his breathing still labored. "I'd rather not speak about this again, Ezra. I hope that you'll respect my wish." When he got to the library door, he turned around, softening his features. Combeferre stood in the middle of the library, frowning. "I'm sorry for my outburst."

The corner of Combeferre's lip pulled up into a wry smile. "You're all I've got left, Nicholas. I'll do my best to stay away from that particular topic." His eyes twinkled as he said, "But I do want to know why you saved the girl."

Enjolras' hold on the door knob tightened. "I have no reason."

.::.

The girl in question needed out of Gillenormand's – there was no question about that. She'd allowed herself to be mollycoddled and poked and prodded by doctor's for three weeks, but she'd had enough. Daisy was the singular person she felt the least bit close to. Gillenormand always kept his distance, usually in his study for the majority of the day; Cosette dressed Éponine in the finest, hand-me-down gowns she had to offer, painting Éponine's face with disgustingly thick pastes that apparently made one more appealing (Éponine thought it had the opposite effect.); and the other guests were nowhere to be found.

Éponine longed for the streets of Paris. She longed for her brother, her sister, but she knew she would never seen either again; Gavroche was dead and Azelma had run off with a sailor years before, no doubt dead, too. She even longed for her parents. Anything but Champ de Lys.

Her injuries had improved dramatically since her arrival. Her shoulder, while it still needed to be wrapped, had gone from a dull, grating ache, to a steady sore feeling. Her body had regained much of its energy and she'd even begun to fill out slightly. But her hand had hardly improved. While her fingers were slowly healing, the doctor doubted she would ever regain use of her hand unless she began therapy. Éponine wasn't even sure she knew what that word meant. So she kept the hand wrapped tightly constantly and generally hid it behind her back if she decided to walk down the halls of the estate.

She was taking one of those walks on the main floor, near the basement door that lead to the servant's hall, when Cosette turned the corner, speaking quietly with one of the kitchen staff. Their conversation halted when Cosette saw Éponine.

"Katy, we'll finish later." Cosette smiled and touched the girl's shoulder. She turned to Éponine when the basement door closed. "It's lovely to see you up and moving, Éponine."

Éponine forced a weary smile. "I needed some fresh air."

"Well, walking in this house all day will hardly get you the fresh air you need." She looped her arm through Éponine's, leading her toward the back door. "Let's go through the gardens."

Éponine struggled slightly. "Cosette, it's fairly windy outside. What about your – "

Cosette laughed, opening the back door. On cue, a large gust of warm wind burst into the hallway, ruffling Cosette's hair out-of-place. "Hair is hair. I can refashion it when we come back inside." She tugged Éponine out into the open for the first time in a month.

Éponine closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun and the wind fall over her skin. It felt foreign, completely new; she felt new. Cosette pulled her along down a gravel path, talking about her plans for the summer and how proud she was of Éponine. Éponine listened to her prattling, taking in the view of the countryside. She'd never been out of Paris and had never seen such picturesque landscape. She stopped walking, staring. The rolling green hills seemed to go on for miles and she saw tiny tan dots – farmhouses – scattered across the hillside. Groves of trees lined the far edges of Gillenormand's land and down one hill to her right an imposing burnt red barn housed the wine-making stations. In the center of his land, vast vineyards grew, pickers weaving in and out of the rows, baskets on their hips.

(Gillenormand had always been a lawyer, but because of his old age and ailing health, he'd created a vineyard, just like his late wife had always wished.)

Cosette smiled faintly, following Éponine's eye-line. "It's quite beautiful, is it not?" she whispered.

Éponine nodded. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Marius" – Cosette choked around his name – "He loved Champ de Lys more than anything, I think. It's so peaceful. You can almost... run away from your problems."

Éponine cast a sidelong glance at Cosette. The woman's usual chippy face had gone pale and was marred by a harrowed look. "Is everything alright?" Éponine asked. She'd rather not ask; she knew was Cosette would say, but it would be rude to notice her pain and not mention something. Wouldn't it?

Cosette blinked rapidly and plastered on a false smile. "Certainly. It's gotten rather chilly. I think it might storm again. Let's go back inside."

As they walked toward the house once more, at a slightly quicker pace, Éponine looked up at the massive house. Her eyes scanned the dozens of windows, most obstructed by closed, weathered shutters. On the third level of the house, though, Éponine could make out her room in the far corner, the curtains and shutters thrown open by Daisy. Down the line, two other rooms had the shutters open and the curtains pulled back; one room even had the window open.

She continued to study the windows, strangely intrigued, when she all of a sudden met the eyes of someone inside of one of the rooms. Her breath stilled, unnerved. Cosette sensed her change and stopped walking.

"Éponine, what is it?"

"Who _is _that?" Éponine whispered, trying to regain her senses. She was beyond surprised to see the leader of _Les Amis _standing in one of the rooms with the open shutters. She'd been under the impression that he was dead, just like all the others save Combeferre. An unpleasant scowl graced his otherwise perfect features.

Cosette's soft chuckle caught Éponine off guard; she met her eyes with a sharp look of confusion. "That's merely Enjolras."

Éponine furrowed her brow and looked toward the window once more, but the figure was gone. Cosette resumed their walk. "The leader?"

"What – Oh, yes, the leader of whatever that society Marius was with was called. _Les Copines_ – _Les _something." Cosette sighed and opened the door, following Éponine into one of the many drawing rooms.

"_Les Amis_," Éponine supplied, willing herself not to blush.

"Oh, yes! That's it." Cosette smiled and pulled the rope, signally for a servant to come in. "Tea, please," she requested when a butler ran through the door. Cosette sat down on one of the couches, folding her hands in her lap. Éponine stood awkwardly by the window. "Poor Enjolras," Cosette said, chuckling.

Éponine turned her head. "Why do you say that?"

"He doesn't it like it here." Cosette shrugged. "But he's.. adjusting. Well, now, would you like some tea, Éponine? Please, sit, dear."

Éponine felt the conversational topic come to a close, though her intrigue was heightened. She wondered why he'd been staring at them from the window. Maybe she would have to come down for dinner, after all. Yes, that's precisely what she would do.

* * *

**Notes: Not technically a meeting. More of a sighting. ;) Please remember to review!**

**(Also, Champ de Lys is French for "field of lilies.")**


	5. Dinner Plans

**Notes: Thanks for the reviews last chapter! Small announcement: I'm going to try my best to continue updating frequently, but I recently started my own project, blah blah, and it's taking up a lot of time. I will not abandon this story, I can promise that!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Chapter Four: _Dinner Plans_

.::.

Éponine allowed herself a small amount of pride in the fact that she arrived to the dinner table before anyone else did. She wore a pale pink dress that made her feel rather silly, but it was the only thing she had present to wear since Daisy had taken the washing. (She'd come to the conclusion most everything was pale in Gillenormand's house: the furniture, the clothing, even the people.) At first, she reveled at the size of the table and the large ornamentation of palms and flowers in the center. It seemed with each passing day the estate grew larger and more ornate, and each day it swallowed her more and more.

Quickly, Éponine grew anxious. Two footmen waited by the kitchen door, standing stock still. Éponine stared at them, her throat going dry. She moved and took a seat next to the head of the table. One crystal wine glass, the cup itself small, the stem long, stared at her from before her plate. She picked it up and downed its contents with a throw back of her head. Clearing her throat, she set the glass down and fidgeted nervously.

At last, the door opened and Cosette fluttered in, her dress a vibrant green. "Oh, Éponine, if I would have known that you were coming, I would have been earlier so you wouldn't have had to be alone." She grinned a took the seat next to hers. Carefully, she placed a hand on Éponine's trembling elbow. "It's lovely to have you here."

Éponine ducked her head and counted to five. Everything was lovely to Cosette. When she looked back up, she met Cosette's concerned gaze and answered the woman's question before she could ask it. "I'm fine, Cosette."

Cosette sat back, apparently pleased with Éponine's remark. "I'm not sure where _P__é__p__é_is, or the others." She sighed and shrugged, sending Éponine a sweet smile. "I suppose we can wait a little longer."

Éponine looked away, across the empty expanse of the table. The question that had been haunting her since her arrival tugged at the front of her mind, but she knew it wasn't proper to ask. When the silence had hung between them hung too heavily, Éponine burst out, "How are you dealing with Marius' death?" Her words echoed in the room, causing both Éponine and Cosette to wince. Éponine sighed and chuckled nervously. "That – that was rude of me."

Cosette searched Éponine's face for a few moments. She opened her mouth to speak, but silenced herself with the three men walked through the door. She touched Éponine's hand. "We can talk after supper, all right?"

Éponine nodded, furrowing her brow, standing when Cosette did. Gillenormand took his place at the head of the table, Enjolras sat directly in front of Éponine, and Combeferre in front of Cosette. A large fern obstructed Éponine's view of Enjolras and she fought the urge to twitch her nose in annoyance. All she could see was his shoulder and the side of his hair. Gillenormand motioned the footmen and butler forward and the three began to set food on everyone's plates. The room remained in a constant silence until they were done.

"You may eat," Gillenormad said, digging into his bowl of soup with gusto.

Éponine held her fork as steadily as she could, occasionally taking a bite of whatever kind of meat was on her plate. Forks and knifes made a _tang _noise each time they met the plate and the sound resounded in Éponine's brain. Éponine could practically cut the tension with the knife she held in her hand.

"Éponine and I took a walk today," Cosette finally said. She looked up and smiled. "We watched the vineyards, _P__épé_."

"Did you deem them satisfactory, dear?" Gillenormand did not look up from his plate.

"Of course." Cosette's soft laughter tinkled like bells.

"Well, good."

The rest of dinner continued in silence.

Éponine only ate her bread.

.::.

"I'm sorry that was so awful," Cosette apologized as the pair walked toward the drawing-room after dinner had been cleared.

Éponine shook her head, smiling slightly. "It was fine."

"Those boys can be so stubborn!" Cosette's face contorted into a grimace. "It's a wonder Marius ever put up with them." She sighed and hooked her arm around Éponine's. "I'm sure you'll have a proper meeting with them one of these days. They just dash in and out – in and out. I'm beginning to think they don't like it here."

Éponine stopped walking and held Cosette's hand. "How could anyone not like it here?" She swallowed, shaking her head. "You've been more than kind to me – to _us_." She found herself believing the words she said. It wasn't fair to think Cosette didn't feel the sting of Marius' death; she had to feel it in other ways, Éponine was sure.

Cosette's eyes shined with tears. "Oh, Éponine," she breathed. "I'm just so sorry all of this happened. It never should have – "

"Oh – uh, excuse us, _mademoiselles_. We didn't realize – " Combeferre's voice interrupted Cosette's. Enjolras and Combeferre had rounded the corner just as Éponine and Cosette had, effectively running into them.

Cosette let go of Éponine's arm and held onto Combeferre's forearm to keep him from running in the opposite direction, smiling suddenly. "No, this is perfect. Ezra Combeferre, Nicolas Enjolras, I'd like for you to meet Éponine Thenardier. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you are dinner. Things were.. Well, you know." She laughed and let go of Combeferre's arm.

Combeferre nodded at Éponine, the corner of his lip twitching up into a small smile. "It's a pleasure to properly meet you, Miss Thenardier." His eyes twinkled and Éponine remembered how she'd asked him not to call her mademoiselle. She smiled in return.

"I never got a chance to thank you, _monsieur_. You – you saved my life." She scoffed, her smile widening.

Combeferre held up a hand, shaking his head. He pointed to Enjolras. "Don't thank me. Thank, Enjolras. He was the one who put me up to it."

Éponine turned her gaze to Enjolras and she nearly lost her breath. It seemed that in the cramped space of the hallway, he towered over her. His face, blank with indifference, held the features of a god and even through a dark jacket, she could see the outlines of well-developed muscles. His hair, golden like the wheat fields Éponine had seen earlier that day, curled around the ends. He kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back and nodded once at Combeferre's remark.

"_Mademoiselle_."

Éponine's brow twitched downward for the briefest of second. "_Monsieur_."

"Éponine and I were just heading for the parlor for some tea. Would you care to join us?"

Enjolras opened his mouth to decline, but Combeferre stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Certainly." Combeferre offered his arm to Cosette, who took it graciously, which left Enjolras to begrudgingly offer his arm to Éponine. She pursed her lips and wondered what he would do if she left him standing there with his arm hanging out into the air.

"_Mademoiselle_," Enjolras said again, his tone biting and harsh.

Éponine hastily placed her hand on the top of his arm. "I'm sorry," she breathed, desperately trying not to focus on the way his muscles moved underneath her fingers.

Enjolras was quiet for a moment before saying, "No need to apologize."

She cleared her throat nervously, earning herself a pointed look from Enjolras. Éponine was thankful there was enough darkness in the hallway to hide her blush. Thankfully, the door to the parlor rested just beyond the curve of the hallway. The moment the pair entered, they sprung apart from one another; Enjolras heading directly for the cabinet filled with liquor and Éponine to Cosette's side.

Pleasant enough conversation passed between the four for the next several minutes. Cosette facilitated it the most, mainly speaking with Combeferre. Enjolras remained by the liquor cabinet, staring absently off into the distance. Combeferre even called him out on it, telling him he needed to act more sociable. Enjolras did not respond.

Cosette sighed, smiling brightly. "What ever shall we do with him?"

Combeferre leaned back in the couch he sat on, crossing his ankle over his knee, throwing an amused smirk over at his friend. "We could throw him out, I suppose."

Cosette chuckled and shook her head. "No, no, that won't do."

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "Won't it?"

"Of course not! He needs to get forced into the open." Cosette stood and placed a hand on Éponine's shoulder; Éponine looked up from her lap. "Take Éponine here for example." Everyone in the room pretended not to notice how quickly Enjolras glanced her way. "She's not the social type either."

Combeferre uncrossed his legs and took a sip of his whiskey. "I think, _mademoiselle_, that you have an idea of some sort. Pray, tell us what it is."

"A ball."

Éponine nearly dropped her tea-cup onto the floor. "A what?" She looked up, eyes alarmed, attempting to send Cosette mental vibes that having a ball _could not _happen.

Cosette grinned and sat back down on the coach, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "A ball. You know, a large party, a dance?"

Éponine slowly slid her hand out of Cosette's grasp, no longer attempting to hide her frustration. "I know what a ball is, Cosette," she said slowly.

"Yes, of course, you do." Cosette grinned and took Éponine's hand once more, returning his gaze to Combeferre. "Don't you see? This will be perfect. Music, dancing, conversation. There's no way they can escape that."

Enjolras barely concealed his groan. "We're right here, _mademoiselle_."

Cosette waved her hand dismissively. "Well?"

"Cosette, please. I don't think – " Éponine started, but Cosette's stern glance cut her off.

Combeferre was slow to answer. When he did, he stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. He passed before the couch, nodding methodically. "If I'm understanding you correctly, you want to throw a ball so Miss Thenarider and Enjolras crawl out of their unsociable holes?" Cosette nodded and Combeferre continued. "This will also help Enjolras return to normalcy, don't you think? I mean, regarding his injuries."

Enjolras shook his head and downed a shot of liquor. "This is ludicrous."

"Certainly," Cosette said, glancing at the rather nonplussed Éponine.

Combeferre stopped pacing and clapped his hands together. "I think it's genius, _mademoiselle._"

Cosette nearly squealed. She stood up quickly and grabbed Éponine's hands, bringing her to a stand as well. "This is wonderful. Oh, the house hasn't been filled with people in years. I have to go talk to Daisy right now to start planning right away!"

.::.

When Cosette had rather roughly pulled Éponine out of the room, Combeferre chuckled lowly and stood up, crossing to the liquor cabinet.

"Why did you do that?" Enjolras asked frankly.

Combeferre shrugged, pouring himself a drink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know _exactly _what I'm talking about." Enjolras ground his jaw down, closing his eyes. "You're trying to – to seduce Cosette!"

Combeferre looked up, alarm apparent in his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't play coy," Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. "You know exactly what you were doing: agreeing to her foolish idea of having a ball, walking her down the hallway."

"I resent your remark, Enjolras. There is no way that I'm trying to – "

Enjolras shook his head. "You are and you know it."

Combeferre straightened his shoulders and frowned deeply. "I happen to agree with her idea. It'll be good for you to see people other than yourself in the mirror, Enjolras. Being cooped up all day is making you look far more sick than you actually are and it's doing nothing for your attitude."

"You're really going to believe that?"

"Yes, because I know it to be true."

"Say that all you will, but I still think – "

Combeferre slammed his glass down on the top of the cabinet. "That's just it, Nicolas. You only ever think anymore! You used to act. You're wasting away, for God's sake. Now, this ball or whatever the hell it is will be good for you. So I suggest you figure out a way to change your sour attitude before the day of the event comes."

* * *

**Notes: Descent in the ranks! Haha. Let me know what you're thinking. :D**


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